


Into each life

by snappea



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: First Time, Gratuitous Plotless Porn, M/M, Oral Sex, Pointless Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snappea/pseuds/snappea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, at first, it’s curiosity that pushes him to brush his thumb over Touya’s eyelid, or the darkness that gives him the courage to explore the narrow ridge of Touya’s nose with the pad of his index finger, but it’s probably mostly the fact that Touya hasn’t pulled away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into each life

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on tumblr a million years ago and decided i didn't totally hate it and also hikago always needs some more love so
> 
> pretty much pwp even though it tries to have a plot for about a second. 
> 
> written for the prompt: no electricity.
> 
> this really isn't anything other than porn. whoops.
> 
> \+ this has [still] barely been proofed mostly because i lost patience and got sick of it [then still didn't feel like being too critical on my second go round]. i’m sorry in advance, there are not a million typos, but i'm sure i could find a few

It’s half past eleven when the lights flicker and everything goes black, followed by the weak and distant flash of lightning through the Touya-family parlor window. It dawns on Hikaru as he scrambles for purchase in the alarmingly dark room, that they should have gone to bed hours ago. He curses as his knee crashes into the _goban_ and hears Touya gasp as the stones rain down on the tatami preternaturally loud over the storm raging outside.

“What happened?” he asks, forcing himself not to flail anymore before he destroys something expensive. The Touya household seems to be chalked full of antiques and nice, pretty things, and even though recently he’s been here more than he hasn’t, he’s honestly never paid much attention to the placement of anything but the stones on the board. Touya is breathing deeply and slowly, calming breaths, and somehow Hikaru is able to hear him above the sound of rain.

“It seems that the power’s out,” Touya says evenly, sending a little wave of embarrassment through Hikaru at his own overreaction. He blinks, eyes wide and unseeing in the dark.

“That happens in Tokyo?”

“Apparently!”

It’s not something that Hikaru’s ever experienced even though he thinks he remembers hearing his mother mention it happening when she was a girl. Maybe. He doesn’t really know, actually. He might have seen it in a movie or something. In any event it’s new and strange to sit in perfect darkness because he can’t recall a time when his room wasn’t illuminated by the soft glow of street lamps. Hikaru wonders what happened, if anyone got hurt, how much of the city has lost power, if his own house still has power. Mostly, though, he wonders if he could have pulled ahead and won the game that’s laying strewn across the floor.

He hears Touya shuffle around the _goban_ and his throat tightens.

“Where are you going?” he hisses before he even knows for sure that Touya is leaving. He vaguely remembers that Touya had just refilled the pot of tea and it’s somewhere in reaching distance just waiting for him to knock it over and scald himself. That knowledge holds him captive, like that group he had in the upper right corner before he scattered it. Either way, it’s all Touya’s fault.

“I was going to see if I could find some flash lights,” Touya says.

“Not without me you’re not,” Hikaru mumbles, and blindly reaches for him.

His hand hits skin and the shock that sends along Hikaru’s arm is enough to make him pause. At first he thinks it’s because he’s just really thankful to feel Touya. His disembodied voice floating through the absolute darkness is unsettling at best, and now there’s tangible evidence under his palm that the world didn’t just disappear. Even if that’s a little dumb to think. In any event, the contact is reassuring.

But Touya stiffens and Hikaru feels too warm even in the coolness of the parlor. He’s almost certain that they’ve touched eachother before, but now that he thinks about it he can’t recall any one instance, and maybe that’s because there’s never been much thought or intent behind the little touches they might share navigating day-to-day situations. Right now, with his fingers pressed firmly against the warm yield of Touya’s cheek, it occurs to Hikaru that touching him is kind of strange. Also, that a strained hush has befallen the space between them, somehow more deafening and thicker than the dull roar of rain. 

Touya is unnaturally still and hot under his fingers. Hikaru twitches feeling strangely guilty and exhilarated and prods a little, trying to map out the expanse of skin. He feels hair barely brushing his knuckles, the tiny flutter of eyelashes against his palm.

Maybe, at first, it’s curiosity that pushes him to brush his thumb over Touya’s eyelid, or the darkness that gives him the courage to explore the narrow ridge of Touya’s nose with the pad of his index finger, but it’s probably mostly the fact that Touya hasn’t pulled away.

Touya’s skin is soft and his hair is soft and  _he’s_ soft against Hikaru’s palm in a way that he’s never been in real life, which leaves Hikaru’s chest tight and his blood rushing to his head, riveted on something other than _go_ for the first time in a long time. The previous game mostly forgotten, he’s much more fixated on the high arch of Touya’s cheekbones, the soft hollow between the shell of his ear and his hairline and slightly rough texture of the skin of his jaw.

Touya could probably use a closer shave, Hikaru observes vaguely, brushing his fingers against the day-old stubble and stifling the giddy laugh that threatens to bubble up at the realization that his own shaving regiment is more severe. Than Touya Akira’s. And somehow that’s the funniest and most interesting thing Hikaru could have realized.

It hits him like a flash flood that he’s never been so fascinated by another person, living or dead. Even worse, he’s pretty sure that he’s known this for longer than he’s wanted to admit.

Hikaru still can’t see anything, there are no street lamps glowing outside. He blinks owlishly is a misguided attempt to clear his vision, like he might be able to see the outline of Touya’s parlor again. As it stands, he barely remembers its shape in the face of everything else that seems to be going right. And even more surprising: he doesn’t care anymore that he can’t see, and that he might trip and break something expensive if he tries to move, or ‘scald’ himself with tea that’s probably pushing tepid by now. Sight or recollection of his surroundings are only valuable in that he might have to move, and he finds that he’s very content with where he right now as he drags his fingertips down Touya’s cheek and skirts around the edge of his mouth.

His senses are overwhelmed by the sound of rain, the heat radiating from Touya’s face and the statuesque stillness in his body; the mounting need to be closer. He leans forward just a little as his fingers glide across Touya’s slightly chapped bottom lip and Touya tenses impossibly further.

Then it’s like a flip is switched. 

Suddenly Touya is trembling and his breath is washing against Hikaru’s knuckles in soundless, shuddering gasps, and only then does Hikaru realize that he’s been holding it this whole time, and that revelation sends a pleasant, tingling jolt through him.

Touya’s hand clamps around his wrist and squeezes and Hikaru wants to pretend that he doesn’t know what’s going on and even more he wants to pretend that he isn’t okay with it, but he’s too surprised by just  _how_ okay with it he is that he can’t muster the focus to feign otherwise. Touya’s palm burns and he feels himself quake in turn. He barely notices his own breath hitching painfully beneath his breast bone.

He runs his thumb back and forth over Touya’s lip and tries not to think too hard about what he’s doing and the impact all of this will have on their relationship, or what will happen if he leans forward just a little bit more.

The thing is that it’s been a great year, and in particular, it’s been a really good week. Something clicked awhile ago, and even though Waya never passes up the opportunity to remind Hikaru that they’re both stupid and that they’re driving him nuts, he and Touya have been connected at the hip whenever they’re not otherwise caught up in official engagements; and their _go_ is living and breathing and  _thriving_. This week alone, Hikaru’s spent most of his nights with Touya because, for reasons that are becoming painfully clear with the passing of every breathless second, the idea of Touya being alone in this huge house sets his teeth on edge. An entire week of sharing meals and commuting together and playing _go_ , and somehow they’ve only gotten into two fights that ended in either of them seriously angry. And Touya barely complained when he insisted on ramen for dinner. Hikaru’s even relatively sure that he caught him smiling as he paid for their meals.

What it boils down to is that Hikaru is insanely happy, he thinks, and that’s a little scary. The last time he was comfortable and complacent left him devastated in the aftermath of everything, and he finally has something to lose again.

Right now, his thumb is brushing Touya’s bottom lip and Touya’s breath is hot and humid and unsteady against the back of his hand. His grip on Hikaru’s wrist is the only thing that’s grounding him even as it leaves his throat tight and his head spinning. Touya scoots just slightly closer and Hikaru resists the urge to lean into him.

“Shindou,” Touya says. It’s barely a whisper and his voice cracks embarrassingly like they’re fourteen again, but for whatever reason it’s the hottest thing Hikaru’s ever heard because suddenly he isn’t in control anymore. Before he can totally process what’s going on his mouth is on Touya’s and even the overwhelming sound of the rain seems melt into the background.

Touya jolts and shudders against him, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment Hikaru is positive that he’s made a huge mistake. He’s about to pull away and do damage control, which he thinks will probably consist of weakly insisting he lost his balance and face planted right into Touya, when the hand encircling his wrist tightens almost painfully and pulls.

He’s not even really sure how it happens, but when he comes back to his senses Hikaru is on his back with hands full of Touya’s hair and the bitter taste of tea in his mouth as Touya attacks kissing the same way he attacked Hikaru’s formation earlier: direct and vicious.

Something shifts into place.

Hikaru has never considered himself an eloquent person. He doesn’t think that he’s ever really contemplated the nature of his demeanor before this moment (and maybe it’s a little silly to be thinking this right now). He’s sure that Touya’s mental monologue is profound and possibly drawing all kinds of _go_ parallels that he wouldn’t have the wherewithal to even understand right now, because his body is fevered and all his blood is pooled in his gut and his groin. But what he does manage to think is that, obviously, he had nothing to worry about.  _Of course_ , it’s just Touya and one thing that he’s learned and come to appreciate over the years is that Touya isn’t worth his worry unless they’re sitting on opposite sides of the _goban_. He feels phenomenally stupid.

He also feels phenomenally light headed when Touya mouths his way down his jawline with wet, sloppy kisses and bites his neck. But hey, his mouth is free now, and he uses his newfound liberation to catch his breath which has grown surprisingly heavy. Touya groans against his skin, warm and with the hint of tongue, and it sends shivers scuttling through him.

He realizes, with a spike of some emotional cocktail of embarrassment and excitement, that Touya is cradled between his thighs and that he’s more turned on than he can ever remember being in his life. Touya must to notice right around the same time as him, because he stills for a moment, breathing hot and hard against the nape of Hikaru’s neck, then he’s snaking a hand down between them and palming Hikaru through the denim of his jeans.

Hikaru is more than familiar with the touch of his own hand, but even the glancing touch of another person is enough to leave him gasping, arching his back and pressing closer. Touya hesitates before grinding his palm down more firmly against Hikaru.

“Fuck,” Touya mumbles against his skin, and Hikaru was mistaken before because he thought that Touya’s voice, shy and cracking over Hikaru’s name was the hottest thing he’d ever heard. But that was before he’d heard Touya cursing, husky against his neck, which almost has him coming in his pants.

There isn’t a lot of thought behind it when Touya goes for his fly and Hikaru eagerly wriggles out of his jeans, but self consciousness strikes an anxious chord when Touya’s fingers curl into the elastic waist band of his boxer briefs.

They’ve never done things in half measures, but things seem suddenly incredibly real.

Touya must either notice the shift in Hikaru’s demeanor or be suffering from nervousness himself, because his fingers hesitate and Hikaru’s underwear stay blessedly at hip level. He slides back up Hikaru’s body and kisses him again. It’s infinitely different from the fierce and frenzied kisses that got them into this mess. It’s soft and lingering and almost chaste except that Hikaru can’t quite help slipping out a little bit of tongue to flick against Touya’s lips. Touya hums against his mouth and pulls back to rest his forehead against Hikaru’s. His grip on Touya’s hair turns as soft as the situation seems to warrant, and he gathers it loosely at the nape of his neck.

“You okay?” he breathes into the heady, damp air that separates their mouths. It remains too dark to see anything, even Touya’s outline above him, but little things seep back into awareness: the sound of rain hitting the roof, the hard feel of tatami and _go_ stones under his back, one of Touya’s hands tracing idle, formless patterns onto the skin of his hips, Touya’s clothed erection pressed against his thigh. His dick twitches at that little revelation, and he feels decidedly less jittery. Now that he’s not in a rush to maul Touya’s mouth, he notices something wet under his shoulder and guesses that somewhere along the way they must have spilled that pot of tea after all.

“Yeah,” Touya says, and the little crack in his voice is back. “Are you?”

Hikaru contemplates this question for a moment, but he’s too charmed by the shakiness in Touya’s words to remember why he wouldn’t be. In fact, it seems silly, really, that Hikaru would ever second guess this since he never even looks both ways before crossing the street. He’s not a particularly careful or reflective person by nature, or at least that’s what Akari tells him (and maybe she’s right because he usually just shrugs it off), so he’s not entirely sure why he’s been afflicted by this sudden bout of caution (although he suspects). But the thing is, if there’s anything he’s ever been confident of it’s the fact that Touya has become a permanent installment in his life, and while he’s not really explicitly thought about  _this_ , it actually does seem like the logical conclusion to the progression of their personal relationship.

If Hikaru’s free hand wasn’t busy tucking Touya’s hair behind his ear, he would have face palmed for not seeing it before, but right now it’s busy with a much more important chore.

“We spilled the tea,” Hikaru informs him instead, shifting to try and wiggle out of the puddle that’s seeping into his tee shirt. He feels Touya shake above him and Hikaru mentally debates on if he’s laughing or not when Touya fists his shirt to pull him up.

It doesn’t go quite as smoothly as Touya was probably hoping. Hikaru ends up bashing his nose against Touya’s chin, and he spends the next couple of seconds pawing at Touya’s face trying to locate his lips.

“Shindou!” he squawks indignantly, scandalized, and Hikaru rolls his eyes but the effect is lost in the dark. Leave it to Touya to be touching his dick one minute and abashed at Hikaru’s audacity the next. Touya draws a breath and Hikaru sees the scolding coming just as Touya’s opening his mouth, and if there is one thing that Hikaru takes pride in, it’s his ability to throw a wrench in all of Touya’s carefully laid plans.

He cuts him off with an eager press of lips and Touya kind of instantly melts and forgets whatever he was going to say, opting instead to cup the back of Hikaru’s head and kiss him back enthusiastically.

Things go a little better. Kissing is easier now that Hikaru’s brain can keep up with what’s going on and Touya’s using more tongue and less teeth. It’s still intense and bruising but Hikaru doesn’t know why he assumed it would ever be any different because, clearly, Touya’s the only person it would ever make sense for him to kiss. When he feels Touya’s hands slide down the sides of his neck, and back down the sides of his body to dance around the skin at his hips he simply braces his palms against the floor and levers his ass off the ground in response.

All of Touya’s heat and eagerness come roaring back and Touya outright moans into his mouth as he hooks his fingers in Hikaru’s underwear and drags them down his thighs. He shivers and wonders exactly how much longer than him that Touya’s been thinking about this.

Touya fists him loosely and Hikaru can’t help the jolt and the surprised moan that works its way out of his mouth. It feels strange for there to be a hand on his dick when he’s not the one controlling its cadence. Squeezing his eyes shut uselessly in the dark, he notices the little things: like the way the angle is all wrong and so amazing, or the way that the fingertips with Touya’s _go_ callouses seem to rub just a little softer than the rest of his hand, or the way Touya flicks his wrist when he gets to the top of a stroke.

Touya’s mouth is at his neck and he feels Touya’s unoccupied hand groping his leg, traveling back towards his knee. Then Touya is nosing his way down Hikaru’s clothed torso, planting idle kisses on the way and, well. Hikaru’s pretty sure that he knows where this is going.

Touya eases back, steadying himself on Hikaru’s leg, breath ghosting over his belly and hips and Hikaru holds his breath in anticipation. There’s a moment of stillness when the hand on his cock grips him at the base and ceases its ascent, then there’s something moist and softer than fingers pressed to the head and Hikaru knows  _exactly_ what that is.

He sucks a breath harshly through his teeth and his toes curl unwittingly in his socks.

Touya starts slow, delicately mouthing the head of Hikaru’s cock, lips catching at the taper of his head sending electricity sparkling through his internal circuits; but as Touya seems to get his bearings Hikaru feels his tongue slip out and rub against the underside.

He tries to stifle the whimpers that rip themselves out of his throat, but once he starts he can’t seem to stop the torrent of light, breathy noises. Touya hums against him in response which is almost as amazing as Touya’s tongue, so really maybe it’s a win-win kind of thing, even though if Touya didn’t seem to be getting off on it Hikaru would probably be humiliated. 

He jumps when Touya’s lips encircle him completely and heat shoots down through his toes and fingertips which, he suddenly notices, are buried in Touya’s hair. He slides down Hikaru’s cock smooth as satin and Hikaru chokes on his own saliva. He’s somehow good at this, even though he can’t fit all of Hikaru’s cock in his mouth and clearly has the wisdom not to try.

Hikaru is nearly doubled over himself, breathing in the scent of Touya’s shampoo in desperate pants. His fingers are buried in Touya’s hair, yanking at it in a way that he would personally find painful but Touya doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, the way he groans with each tug sends another soft vibration through Hikaru and leaves him squirming helplessly and bucking up slightly into the tight circle of Touya’s mouth. He can’t help but wonder if Touya’s looked up how to do this when he pulls back, swipes the head of Hikaru’s cock with his tongue and begins stroking the base with calloused fingers. He moans around him when Hikaru yanks his hair particularly hard, then Hikaru can’t think of anything at all. Touya’s tongue writhing against him and the vibrations of his wordless vocalizations around him is overwhelming and unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

Touya manages to settle into a rhythm with his mouth working in tandem with his tongue and his hands gently jerking the base of his dick. It’s a bit clumsy, enough that it’s obvious that Touya’s never done this before, but Hikaru’s certainly not in a position to judge since he’s relatively sure he’s never felt anything quite as amazing. 

And Touya, stupid, amazing Touya, his rival and his best fucking friend, is moaning like he’s never wanted anything more than Hikaru’s cock in his mouth. That thought alone is enough for Hikaru’s balls to tighten and-

“Shit, Touya, move!” he gasps. For one panicked minute he tries to push Touya’s head away and wriggle out from under him, but Touya only seems to tighten his grip and redouble his efforts.

The thing about not being able to see, Hikaru thinks, is that it makes everything else that much more intense by contrast. Or at least that’s what he’ll tell himself later as he licks his wounds over coming way too fast and way too hard in his eternal rival’s mouth.

It’s not what he thinks about as he lays flattened and panting in the aftermath of his orgasm. Mostly what he wonders is how he ended up back in the puddle of tea, and how on earth he can get Touya to make as many of those breathy noises as possible.

Touya crawls back up his body and lays at his side, hand trailing shapes on his heaving chest, heavy breath stirring Hikaru’s bangs.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly and Hikaru nearly laughs at how dumb that is since he can’t remember a time that he’s ever felt better. He opts, instead, to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair, because he seemed to like that, and to sling a thigh over Touya’s hips as he rolls him onto his back. Touya hisses possibly in surprise or in pain but that only intensifies Hikaru’s need to get his mouth on him.

Hikaru just came but there’s a fire burning under his skin more urgent than he can ever remember his own arousal being, and he can trace it back to the fierce desire to get Touya’s pants off as fast as humanly possible. Because, really, after that, the only option left available to him is to slobber all over Touya Akira’s dick.

It’s clumsy and he spends precious seconds fighting with the double button fastening Touya’s slacks, but Touya’s too busy moaning at the little brushes of Hikaru’s knuckles against his cock to complain.

He feels the muscles of Touya’s legs twitch when he nearly rips his pants and underwear down in one go. Eagerly, perhaps foolishly, he wastes absolutely no time in feeling out Touya’s dick and putting his mouth all over in.

He suspects that Touya may have done some research on blow jobs (which leaves Hikaru armed with an entire slew of embarrassing personal questions that he’ll delight in asking Touya later), so as per usual there’s a knowledge gap. But, Hikaru assures himself, he’s always been best at learning on the job anyway.

There’s something powerful about having Touya’s cock in his mouth and feeling him writhe beneath him at even the smallest flicker of tongue at the crown of his head. He breathes deeply through his nose, barely adding the symphony of Touya’s desperate moans above him.

And sucking dick is surprisingly good too. He can’t remember if he’s ever thought about it much before, but regardless, it’s effortless because of the way that Touya’s hips are twitching under him, and Touya’s thighs are locked around his shoulders and quivering against him, and Touya’s heels are pressed into the space between his shoulder blades, and Touya’s hands are just barely ghosting over his hair again and and again, like he’s afraid of what he’ll do if he allows himself the luxury of proper touch.

Hikaru squeezes Touya’s hips as tight as he wants and it’s the most intoxicated that he’s ever been.

When Touya comes, it’s with a small intake of breath then complete silence as his body tenses so hard that Hikaru’s shoulders ache between the vice of his thighs. He doesn’t pay that much attention to it though, because he’s suddenly faced with the dilemma of a mouthful of come and no idea what to do with it.

With some effort, he swallows, doing his best not to think about sperm. He probably wouldn’t have done things differently either way other than to mentally prepare himself, but he really didn’t think that one through.

Touya’s legs go slack around him, and his knees slip off of Hikaru’s shoulders bonelessly. He rests his face against Touya’s thigh and breathes deeply. He hazily realizes that he’s horribly aroused again, but settles for nuzzling the juncture of Touya’s hip and composing himself as best he can in the fading mental echos of Touya’s moans. A hand drops to the top of his head and pushes his bangs back. He grins against Touya’s skin.

“Are you alright?” Hikaru parrots back cheekily, feeling smug and deeply satisfied. Touya gently cuffs him, but he can feel the small, telltale shake in his body that means he’s probably laughing. Or cold. Hikaru’s gonna go with laughing though.

“We spilled the tea,” he says, speech slurred and muzzy. Hikaru can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are you in it?”

“Yeah.” 

Hikaru laughs and gropes around for Touya’s hand.

“C’mere then,” he says, pulling on Touya who rudely groans at his efforts. “It’s dry over here.”

Touya allows himself to be pulleyed, then actually helps wrench himself up halfway through deadweighting it, but in any case Hikaru’s pretty sure he deserves a ‘thank you’ for his troubles. He lets it drop when Touya tumbles into him and they crumple to the floor in a weirdly comfortable tangle of sweaty limbs and sticky shirts (which, Hikaru realizes belatedly, they never removed). He relaxes under Touya’s weight, wishing for the first time since all of this started that he could look Touya in the eyes. Because neither of them has the option of retreating now that they just did… whatever they’ll end up calling the thing that they just did, and he is literally pinned under Touya who’s flopped limply across his torso.

There’s time, he thinks. Tomorrow. Next week. For years. They’ve got all the time they’ll need to see eye-to-eye and exchange blowjobs and yell and play _go_.

Touya noses into the nape of his neck and Hikaru lays there in absolute darkness, thinking of how maybe they should talk about this. He plants a kiss on Touya’s forehead instead, and when Touya hums sleepily, affection blooms hot and bright in the aching space under his sternum.

It can wait, he tells himself again, and falls asleep thinking about how they’ll finish that scattered game tomorrow, barely registering the wanderings of Touya’s fingers across his still-clothed collarbone, and the pitter patter of rain on the roof like the pachi of _go_ stones on cedar.


End file.
